Syrup
by Howlitzer
Summary: Unbecoming, yet irresistibly sweet all the same. [P3S]


a/n: It's inspiration from a place you wished forgotten. I hope you don't mind, my friend.

* * *

Her ice cream had melted.

A strawberry sundae, the syrup layered on top of the lake of sweet cream. A cherry bobbed on the surface, red stem glistening with moisture under the summer sun.

She sat on a bench, spoon laid down on the table in front of her. Her gloved hands rested on the worn wood.

He sat across from her, bowl half eaten and melting like hers. A discarded stem rested on the wood in front of him. His spoon was set in the milky mixture, tinged a sweet red. His fingers gently tapped the table in nervousness.

She looked at him, and he wanted to tell her that she was not okay.

But she already knew. And he knew that.

He wanted to tear his eyes away from her. This girl had her mind trapped in an innocent cycle of youth. But her body had blossomed, explosively. Not just the curves that pushed against her newly lengthened dress, but all that besides. On the inside, she was yearning. She knew, and now he knew as well.

What she wanted wasn't right. Not for him.

He wanted to remain her protector, her friend, her distant yet near lover. A source of infatuation. She could still want him, but she would have to live with the fact that she couldn't have him.

She was supposed to, but she didn't. Because she couldn't.

She didn't look the same as she used to.

She brought her feet over the bench and got up. Her legs took her to where he was. He paused for a minute, counting the seconds before realizing she was still there.

Reluctantly, he slid over. She took her seat.

She was exploding on the inside and wanted to release it.

"I'm a woman now."

His ears twitched as he heard her speak. He nodded, slowly, deliberately.

"You don't want to see it."

"No."

"Are you scared of me?"

"I'm more scared of myself."

"Do you think you'll hurt me?"

"I know I will."

"...I can do that for you."

He shifted his eyes towards her, head pointed towards the horizon.

"Do what?"

"Let the hurt become something good. Something magical."

"It's not that easy. And I don't want you to do that. You deserve-"

"What I deserve doesn't matter. I want you."

He stared at her melted ice cream before turning his head towards her.

Pure, glossy lips. They glimmered from so close.

"You shouldn't want this."

The fingers on her hand pulled themselves along the wood, closing in together.

"I don't want you to be my saviour any longer."

"Do you hate me?"

"Never," she said with a firm tone. "I will never hate you. No matter what your choice might be."

Her makeup was so curiously light. Like she didn't need it, but he knew better. She needed it, for her own desires. For her own completion and feeling. Not to impress him.

"Why come to me?"

"I didn't want to do something that I would regret."

"What if I reject you?"

"I wouldn't regret that."

She dipped her finger into his bowl of strawberry flavoured cream and stuck it into her mouth.

Her eyes trailed back to him, with no sense of innuendo.

They were far past implications. This was for real.

She was bursting, blossoming rapidly. Her eyes pulled at him.

He started feeling badly. A little sick.

She was dragging him in.

He stood up.

She rose at the same time and placed a hand against his chest. He sunk back down and she placed one knee on the bench, hands on his shoulders as she leaned towards him.

He had every opportunity to stop her movements. He felt badly. Felt wrong.

Her eyes were bright and bold.

He cursed himself mentally for being selfish. For only worrying about himself.

But this wasn't to impress her. And she didn't do it to impress him.

"I guess...it's better this way."

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I'd be worthless if I...made you a desperate woman."

"You wouldn't be."

"You're trying to spare my feelings. Don't."

She bit her bottom lip.

"Do you want to?" he asked.

The pressure from her fingers increased.

"Amy?"

"You don't have to ask that."

But she would answer anyways.

"I want to. I'm going to lose control in a few moments. Is that okay?"

"No."

She ran her tongue along the edges of her teeth.

"You shouldn't say things you don't mean."

Her hands shifted to his back, warm and inviting. She leaned forward and slackened the chains around her heart as she kissed him. Her tongue was entirely too forceful.

She was reckless and he found himself enjoying it.


End file.
